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Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs: The Left Bank World of Shakespeare and Co

Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs: The Left Bank World of Shakespeare and Co

‘Shakespeare and Company’ in Paris is one of the world’s most famous bookshops. The original store opened in 1921 and became known as the haunt of literary greats, such as Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, George Bernard Shaw, Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein and James Joyce.

Sadly the shop was forced to close in 1941, but that was not the end of ‘Shakespeare and Company’… In 1951 another bookshop, with a similar free-thinking ethos, opened on the Left Bank. Called ‘Le Mistral’, it had beds for those of a literary mindset who found themselves down on their luck and, in 1964, it resurrected the name ‘Shakespeare and Company’ and became the principal meeting place for Beatnik poets, such as Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs, through to Henry Miller and Lawrence Durrell.

Today the tradition continues and writers still find their way to this bizarre establishment, one of them being Jeremy Mercer. With no friends, no job, no money, and no prospects, the thrill of escaping his life in Canada soon palls, but by chance, he happens upon the fairytale world of ‘Shakespeare and Co’ and is taken in.

What follows is his tale of his time there, the curious people who came and went, the realities of being down and out in the ‘city of light,’ and, in particular, his relationship with the beguiling octogenarian owner, George.

Completely riveting.

Observer

Review by 1000 Libraries

In an age where we often equate travel with curated feeds and seamless transitions, Jeremy Mercer’s Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs serves as a gritty, soulful reminder that the best journeys are often the ones we take when we have nowhere else to go.

Mercer, a Canadian crime reporter fleeing a crumbling life, finds himself penniless in Paris. He stumbles into Shakespeare and Company, the legendary English-language bookstore on the Left Bank. What follows is not a standard “fish out of water” comedy, but a profound meditation on the radical hospitality of the shop’s late proprietor, George Whitman. The book’s magic lies in its depiction of the “Tumbleweeds,” or the transient writers and dreamers who sleep among the shelves in exchange for a few hours of work and the promise to read a book a day. Mercer captures a fading bohemian ideal: the notion that a bookstore can be more than a retail space; it can be a life raft.

“You know, that’s what I’ve always wanted this place to be,” he said. “I look across at Notre Dame, and I sometimes think the bookstore is an annex of the church. A place for the people who don’t quite fit in over there.”

Mercer’s memoir is a testament to the fact that sometimes, to find your story, you have to live inside someone else’s library for a while. It is a love letter to the sanctuary of the printed word and a reminder that when you strip away the safety nets of a traditional career, what remains is the raw, beautiful necessity of community. By the time Mercer eventually leaves the shop, you won’t just be reading about his transformation; you will be feeling the itch to pack your bags, buy a one-way ticket to the city, and lose yourself in the stacks.

“Completely riveting... a vivid picture of modern Paris.”

“Tender, disenchanted, self-castigating and bittersweet, Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs is a book that is consistently surprising.”

“[An] entertaining romp through Parisian literary bohemia.”

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